


A Wreck With You Chained

by shadowsapiens



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bloodplay, Captivity, Envy noncons to cope, Forced Orgasm, Grief, Hurt for Marcoh/Comfort for Envy, Other, Self-Harm, Verbal Humiliation, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/pseuds/shadowsapiens
Summary: You won’t get anything from me, he wants to say.You’ve already taken all I have. But he keeps quiet, because Envy’s smile scares him.
Relationships: Envy/Tim Marcoh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	A Wreck With You Chained

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worcky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worcky/gifts).



> Hi worcky, I saw this request and couldn't stop thinking about it! Thanks so much for the awesome prompts :D
> 
> Set after Lust's death.

Marcoh knows it’s going to be a bad day when Envy smiles at him. He’s in a small white room, at a small white table, far below Central. A bad day, or a bad night, he doesn’t even know anymore. He hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Maybe months. 

He hasn’t seen Lust in days. He never thought he would miss her.

 _You won’t get anything from me_ , he wants to say. _You’ve already taken all I have_. But he keeps quiet, because Envy’s smile scares him. 

Not just the smile. They’re tapping their fingers on the table, the staccato echoing in the empty room. They cross their legs. Uncross them. Lean back in their chair.

“Do you ever feel lonely, Doctor Marcoh?”

Marcoh blinks. This isn’t the interrogation he prepared for. He answers, because it goes badly when he doesn’t answer, “Sometimes. Everyone does, sometimes.”

“No.” Envy’s fingers halt with one last click on the table. “There are people who don’t know how fucking good they have it. They’re not like you. They’re not like me.”

They tilt their head, and their long dark hair spills over their pale shoulder. The room is cold, but they’re wearing the same skin-tight clothing they always do. Marcoh has felt their hand on his throat before. He knows their skin is cold too, and their slender hands are far from fragile. 

Envy snaps their fingers in front of his face. He jerks back, heart hammering. 

“I’m talking to you,” Envy snarls. “Pay _attention_.” 

“What do you want?” He knows he can’t hide his fear. He doesn’t even try. He’s sinned enough, and Envy knows just how pathetic he is already. 

His trembling usually pleases Envy. But not today. Today, Envy’s fist slams into the table. The surface fractures. Envy’s arm trembles in place. They look away, and in profile, with eyes downcast, they look almost pitiful. 

When the echo fades, Envy whispers, “You can’t give me what I want.” 

Something has happened. Something bad—no. If Envy is upset, it must be something good. It’s better for the country—for the world—when their plans go wrong. It’s probably bad for Marcoh, because he’s trapped in this room with them. But that’s all right. Whatever’s coming for him, he’s long since earned with the blood on his hands. 

Envy stands, and Marcoh sits still to watch them pace. They seem to hum with pent-up energy, as if this little room isn’t enough to contain them. Their sandals drum against the concrete floor with too loud an impact. Marcoh’s heartbeat quickens in time with their footsteps. 

Envy mutters under their breath. Marcoh can’t understand the words. It isn’t a language he knows—but he knows the expression on Envy’s face, when Envy skids to a halt, clenches their jaw, and digs their fingernails into their forearm. Dark blood wells up where they pierce the skin, and trickles down to the edge of their glove. 

He knows the expression. He’s felt it often enough himself, that loathing. He barely stops himself from saying, _Let me bandage you up_.

“What?” Envy says. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re pathetic.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are. Fucking pathetic.” They move again, this time around the table. Closer. Closer. Their inhuman eyes fixed squarely on Marcoh. “Tell me, Marcoh. What do humans do when they can’t get what they want?” 

Marcoh swallows. His mouth is dry. “I don’t know.” 

“Pathetic,” Envy says again, but they sound dangerously pleased. “I’ll tell you. They take something else.” 

They reach out. Marcoh flinches as bloodstained fingers touch his neck. Trace the fluttering line of his jugular. 

“I have nothing worth taking,” Marcoh says. With every word, he feels how sharp Envy’s claws are at his throat. 

“That’s right, Doctor. But I’ll take it anyway.” 

Envy yanks the metal chair away from the table, with Marcoh still in it. He thinks he’s going to fall back at first, crack his skull on the concrete. But a sudden weight in his lap slams the chair down, keeps it upright—

Envy’s straddling his thighs. They aren’t smiling anymore. 

Marcoh’s first thought is how heavy they are. They look so slim and delicate, but they weigh far too much. His thighs will bruise with the pressure. 

Marcoh’s second thought is nothing at all. His mind whites out with shock when Envy’s lips meet his jaw. 

“You’re lonely,” Envy breathes against his skin. “I like lonely people best.” 

Their hands touch Marcoh’s shoulders briefly, then trace lightly down his chest. Marcoh’s skin crawls, and his dirty shirt feels too thin between them. His arms twitch, he instinctively wants to shove Envy away. But Envy’s too strong. There’s no escape, and there’s no point in trying. 

Besides—Envy’s reached his fly—he already knows he deserves punishment. This shouldn’t be any different. 

It is, though. It’s incredibly, horribly different, as Envy unbuttons his trousers and shoves them further down his hips. They’re loose already. He’s lost weight in captivity. Marcoh cringes back, fists clenched to prevent himself from doing something stupid like resisting, as Envy draws his cock from his underwear. 

He’s soft, and Envy’s cold fingers feel awful against his tender flesh. Envy circles him with the hand they clawed themselves with, still wet with blood.

Envy disengages from his throat to glare at him. “What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be hard. Humans enjoy this.” 

“I—”

There’s no good answer. There’s no answer that will make this stop. 

“Is it me? I’m not pretty enough for you?” Envy’s face twists. Their hand twists too, tugging Marcoh’s cock. They’re too rough. It hurts, even with the slick of blood. “You stupid old man, tell me I’m pretty.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Marcoh says dully, because he’s supposed to.

But the worst part is, it’s true. Envy’s too-violet eyes are brilliant with hatred. Wide and glittering. Maybe Marcoh’s finally lost his mind, but he thinks Envy is on the edge of tears. It’s the most human they’ve ever looked.

His cock starts to stir under Envy’s hand. 

“That’s right. Look at that. You want me after all, don’t you? I’m doing this as a favor. When’s the last time someone touched you, huh? You worthless, broken freak.”

With every vicious word, Marcoh’s blood pulses lower in his body. His cock swells and hardens against his will as Envy strokes him, as Envy keeps talking. 

“Pathetic. Ugly and pathetic.” Envy’s other hand braces on Marcoh’s shoulder. Squeezes painfully. “Not like me. You’re nothing like me.” 

Marcoh doesn’t answer. He can barely breathe, his whole body seizing up against the sensation of Envy’s hand pumping up and down his cock. It’s true. He’s ugly, pathetic. Worthless, broken. Nobody has touched him like this in years. Nobody has wanted to. Nobody would. He wouldn’t let them. 

But somehow, he doesn’t think Envy is talking to him anymore. 

Envy stops talking, and their hand slows. It’s almost gentle now. Marcoh feels their smooth skin, the rougher texture of their glove, through the wetness. Not just blood anymore. Marcoh breathes raggedly and tries to hold back.

It’s useless. He’s no stronger than he ever was. He goes rigid, shudders, and comes over Envy’s fingers. The pleasure explodes through him like alchemy, the array complete. 

He slumps back in the chair as Envy lets go of him. His stomach twists, cold nausea quickly chasing the last vestiges of heat. 

Envy looks no happier than Marcoh. They wipe their bloody, come-stained palm on Marcoh’s shirt, then rise to their feet. 

“I don’t know what she saw in all of this.” Their voice shakes slightly on she. Then they smile again, with razor teeth. “Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.”

They leave the room, footsteps echoing. The door closes too softly behind them. Marcoh covers his face. Chokes, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

Funny. Turns out he has something left to lose after all.


End file.
